Something Older
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: Sequel to “Destined” and the second part of “Something Old.” Angel and Spike return from Buffy's wedding back to The Hyperion...


_A/N: I really recommend that at least "Something Old" be read first if you haven't it so that this makes more sense. There are a couple of refs to the "After the Fall" comics, but it's not necessary to be familiar with those to understand what's going on. _

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Spike stumbled through the wooden church doors, and looked up at the overcast sky.

"Well, that's bloody helpful, isn't it? Funny how those damn Scoobies like planning their weddings around the rain," he said more to himself than Angel. "Guess it's so blokes like you and me can get around, huh?"

Angel, hands on hips, gave Spike a sour look before shaking his head. "I knew this wouldn't go well. Should've never given you that invitation in the first place."

"Yeah? Then why did you?"

"Because Buffy wanted you there."

"Did she now? I'm thinking she's regretting that decision, among others."

He looked at Spike then, who was slowly heading down the church steps, attempting not to pitch over. With an angry growl, Angel began to walk beside him, steadying his arm so he wouldn't fall down the stairs. "What the hell possessed you, Spike?"

"Well, I pretty much guaranteed she'd move the hell on to something _nomal_ now, didn't I?" Spike said sarcastically. "She'll be hellbent on making that farce work. Normal, just like the two of you wanted," he sneered. "So all in all, I'd say it was still a success." Angel not so gently let Spike go, who collapsed against the car door. "Oh bugger, I need more alcohol," Spike groused.

"I'm thinking you don't," Angel said.

"It went better than the last two times I was in a church with her," he sniffed. "Last time, I got myself burned on a gigantic cross, and the time before that, she broke my legs."

"Oh, you mean that time you tried to _kill_ me?" Angel asked rhetorically.

"It was to save Dru, you git. Got a lot of gratitude for that," he laughed. "I'd say this was a general plus—no singeing, no broken parts."

"Not yet, but I can assure you that—"

Before Angel could finish the sentence, an irate Dawn came marching out of the church doors, covered in satin lavender.

"Great—here comes the bride's maid," Spike muttered to Angel. "Not out here to congratulate me on my speech, I'd wager."

Spike straightened up, and nodded to the approaching Dawn. "Well, Bit. I bet it's nice to have a dress that isn't radioactive this time around, eh? God knows you're radiating enough toxic, angry energy all on your own right about now."

"How could you, Spike? Saying those things?" Dawn shook her head. "This was _Buffy's_ day."

Spike rolled his eyes at that. "Oh, get _off_ it, will you?"

"Excuse me?" Dawn asked, eyes briefly flickering over to Angel, who stood there silently, merely observing the exchange.

"Once again, you only know one side to the sodding story. And did it ever occur to you it wasn't the _right_ side? Wasn't the _only_ side? Pfft. Course not. How's about you save your finger waggin' for someone who cares, yeah?"

Angel looked apologetically at a stunned into silence Dawn.

"Sorry," he muttered, as he opened the car door for Spike, helping him get in.

"Yeah, I bet," Dawn said caustically. "Cause bringing him here drunk? Such a great idea."

Angel sighed as he walked around the car to the driver's side. He paused once his hand reached the door handle.

"You know, it's a wonder why we were invited in the first place. Surely Buffy must have thought how a gathering such as this would make Spike feel. Would make _me_ feel," he amended, crossing his arms defensively. "Were we supposed to just bask in this joyous occasion? Clap and smile as she chose someone else?" Angel asked sarcastically. Dawn held her chin up in clear defiance, but had no answer to that.

"Just be happy I didn't drink too." Angel, expression grim, got into the car without another word.

*~*~*~*

"Angel, uh, thanks for—"

"Save it, Spike," Angel responded irritably, eyes firmly on the road. Spike stared at him for a moment before settling into his seat, looking out of the window as they drove back to The Hyperion.

*~*~*~*

"Hey, the Fang Boys…" Gunn trailed off as a clearly miffed Angel stormed past, heading up the stairs.

"Don't mind Princess there, Charlie. Just has his knickers in a twist. Not that that's news. Where's Blue and Lorne?"

"Out back in the garden, doing that whole…meditating/cleansing thing that Lorne likes to do. Nice distraction, by the way. Back to you two—I take it the wedding didn't go well then?" Gunn asked.

"Went off without a hitch, actually," Spike answered, his eyes trained on Angel as he rounded the corner on the landing.

"Angel's upset, and you're…" Wesley paused, taking in Spike's slightly disheveled appearance. "A bit worse for wear. What exactly did happen?"

"Well lads, I got pissed, and…words got away from me for a mo'. Made Angel all uncomfortable like, I reckon. No worries, though—he'll get over it." And with that, Spike nodded, heading up the stairs as well.

Wes and Gunn looked at each other.

"Seemed a bit run down, didn't they?" Gunn asked. "Had to have been harsh, though." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking up the stairs where the two vampires had been. "It's gotta suck, losing your girl. Or their girl, or… Anyway, hope they recover."

Wesley scoffed. "Oh please. After all we've been through—hell _literally_ and coming back from the dead—or undead for you."

"Good thing I was, though, before time was reset. Never would've known how to make that machine to bring you back if I hadn't had that brief stint on team evil," Gunn said thoughtfully.

Wesley gave him a wry grin at that. "Yes, well, my point was that surely they'll bounce back. They have seen much, much worse, after all. And they still have each other to annoy on end."

"Just like in the old Wolfram and Hart days," Gunn added.

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "That, and much older…"

*~*~*~*

Angel sat on his bed—back against the wooden headboard and legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book that he wasn't really reading. He was too upset to read.

And it wasn't Buffy's wedding either. It was the fact that he was forced to defend Spike. Okay, not forced. No one held a stake to his chest or anything. But more that he _wanted_ to. That if he hadn't gotten into his car when he had, he probably would have said a lot more, or marched back into that church himself to give Buffy a piece of his mind.

Which was just beyond disturbing.

Clearly, there'd been entirely too much quality time between him and Spike.

*~*~*~*

Spike sighed as the hot water cascaded over his head, freeing the curls of gel, and down his face, into his open mouth, running in rivulets down his chest and torso…It was sobering him up quickly.

He washed quickly, thinking about the ride home. He wasn't exactly sure why Angel was in such a mood, and it bothered him that he felt compelled to find out, and possibly make it right.

_No need for him to have felt embarrassed. That was all me, after all._

He rinsed the suds off of him, and turned off the faucets.

"Time for a little chat," he muttered to himself.

*~*~*~*

Spike, wearing nothing but a towel, burst through the door, leaving watery footprints left in his wake.

"Right then—I've had just about enough of this. What the hell is up your ass?"

"What are you talking about?" Angel asked with a frown, closing his book. Honestly, he was grateful for the reprieve. Of course, he'd never tell Spike that.

"You and your 'boo hoo' mood on the way back home," Spike said, walking further into the room.

"Nothing, Spike. Happy now?"

"No," Spike responded, sitting down on Angel's bed.

"What the hell? Spike—get up, and get _out_. You're making my bed wet with your towel."

Spike shrugged, stood up, tossed off the damp towel onto the carpet, and then sat down again on the bed. Angel sighed in exasperation, folding his arms tightly across his chest, looking away from Spike.

"No need to get all dainty."

"I am _not_ being dainty."

"Nothing you haven't seen before, you know."

"Yes, I'm aware. I don't have memory loss."

"Let's suss this out then, yeah?"

"There's nothing_ to_ 'suss' out. Idiot."

"See? There you go again, with the name calling when you don't get your way. It's pathetic, really."

"Well if it's so pathetic," Angel started, turning his head to look at Spike, "Then why don't you get the hell out of my room and leave me alone."

Spike narrowed his eyes at that, head tilted.

"Can't."

"What?"

"Can't leave you alone. That's the thing. I don't know..." he said, dragging his fingers through his wet curls, sighing. "It just really gets on my nerves that you're pissed at me for some reason I can't figure. And not the usual pissed at me, but like, really angry. Why?"

"Spike," he started softly, looking away again. "It's not you, okay? I was just..." Angel sighed, glancing at Spike from the corner of his eye. "I was just upset that I wasn't upset as I thought I would've been. About Buffy getting married. I was more upset at how you'd been treated, and that annoyed me, and...stuff," he finished lamely, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, Angel bear," Spike said in a falsetto voice.

"Damn it, Spike. If you make fun of me, I'll—"

"It makes me ever so happy when you share your feelings with me," Spike finished in the same tone with a smirk.

"All right—that's it."

With that, Angel leaned forward and brought an elbow to Spike's smirking face, knocking him off of the bed. Spike rolled when he hit the floor, crouching as he glared at Angel.

"Cheap shot, old man."

Angel got off of the bed, smirking himself.

"Please—you're just upset that it wasn't you."

Spike roared as he launched himself at Angel, knocking him backwards onto the bed, followed by a left punch to the face. Spike laughed as Angel's face was whipped to the side. Angel grunted, and knocked Spike onto his back on the bed. Spike backhanded him in the face before Angel could make a move, and rolled on top of him.

"Can't ignore me, Angel," Spike panted out.

"I can try," Angel gritted out.

"That right?"

Spike swooped in, giving Angel a bruising kiss. Just as Angel began to return the kiss, Spike pulled back.

Spike tsked at him. "Didn't seem to be trying very much just then."

"Well, what can I say? I just can't seem to not notice you, Spike," Angel said sarcastically.

Angel leaned up, pulling Spike's head down as he did so to kiss him again. Spike moaned, returning the kiss. Angel released him, pulling back.

"Well, look at that? Seems like you can't help but notice me either."

Spike smirked at him before swooping in for another kiss.

Everything seemed to slow down for Angel after that. It was only seconds before both he and Spike managed to get his pants off, and a few more seconds after that before Spike was thrusting into him. Slowly. Staring at him unblinkingly before his eyes fluttered closed as he moaned aloud, picking up his pace. Angel stroked himself briskly as Spike moved above him, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing in the room, intermingled with mutual moans of pleasure that rose as they neared the chasm of ecstasy…

*~*~*~*

"Is that…is that what I think it is?" Gunn asked as he involuntarily neared the staircase, a grimace slowly appearing on his face.

"No. I mean, I don't think…" Wesley trailed off, peering up. He jumped slightly at the inhuman, male growl from upstairs.

Lorne opened up the French doors that lead into the garden, entering the lobby.

"Well, our cleansing routine is done for the day. How's about…" Lorne trailed off as a steady pounding started from the upstairs.

"Um, what's going on?" Lorne asked lightly, looking back and forth between his two friends. It was then that Illyria came up behind him, looking up at the ceiling as if she could see through it.

"The vampires are fornicating," Illyria stated monotonously.

"Okay," Gunn said, turning away.

"Right," Wesley added.

"Dinner? Early dinner then? Let's go do that," Lorne added, the three heading to the door.

Illyria followed behind, a curious expression on her face.

"This comes as a surprise to you all?" she asked once they were outside, most of the sounds muffled from the closed doors. The three men paused simultaneously at that, turning to look at her with varying expressions of shock.

"Illyria…you knew?" Wesley asked her.

"Yes. Spike once mentioned to me that he and Angel had been intimates once."

Gunn, Wes, and Lorne all looked at one another quietly.

"Dinner, right?" Gunn asked.

"Or drinks," Wes countered.

Lorne nodded, and the three began walking away from the Hyperion, with Illyria bringing up the rear.

*~*~*~*

Spike lay on his back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, a grin on his face. Angel sat up, knocking the plaster chips that fell on him from the dents in the wall out of his hair, unbuttoning his now soiled shirt. Angel stood up, tossing the shirt into a corner of the room, and then bent down to pick up Spike's soggy towel, wrapping it around his hips.

He glanced at Spike who slowly turned his hooded eyes to him.

"Where you goin'?" Spike rumbled.

"Shower," Angel said as he opened the door, looking down the hallway first before stepping into it. He closed it behind him without a word. Spike's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the closed door.

"Fine. If that's how you want to play it…"

Spike got up swiftly, headed to the door, and slammed it shut behind him as he went to his own room.

"Angel wants to be alone? Fine by me," he muttered to himself, closing the door before flopping on his bed. He stared at the ceiling and realized that he did in fact feel just "fine." That is, if "fine" was an acronym for fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional.

Spike sighed, closing his eyes, willing his feelings away…

*~*~*~*

Angel supposed he took much longer than necessary in the shower. Yes, he was dragging his feet, hesitant to go back to his room, but it wasn't without good reason.

No, it wasn't their first time together, but Spike had been so incredibly blasé about the whole thing that it…

It made Angel feel insecure.

What did it all mean? How did Spike feel about all this? About them? Was there a "them?" Was it just a once in a lifetime thing?

"Only one way to find out," Angel murmured, opening his door.

Angel's jaw clenched as he saw that his room was empty.

"Damn it, Spike."

Angel spun on his bare heel, and headed down the hall to Spike's room.

Angel opened Spike's door, jaw clicking as his annoyance grew at Spike not even acknowledging his presence.

"Oh, I see how it is," Angel started. "Guess you found a way to not notice me after all, huh? After getting what you wanted."

Spike scoffed at that. "_You're_ one to talk. Leaving out of your room without a word. You hardly looked at me."

Angel came further into the room, hands on hips.

"You started it. Just flopped on your back, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was I to make of that?"

Spike sat up abruptly at that, twisting his torso so that he could look at Angel.

"But it's not like I just walked out of the bloody room. Like you."

"You _did_, moron. We're in your room now. And the only reason we are is because you _left_ mine."

"I only _left_ because you were being a complete and utter wanker."

Angel sighed, closing the door shut before approaching the bed.

"You're right," he started, sitting down. "And I'm sorry."

"Uh…how's that now?"

"You're right. I was just…a bit uncomfortable I guess. I mean, what…What's—"

"What's going on between us, you mean?" Spike supplied.

"Yeah."

"Don't know, Angel. But it is something, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's something all right," Angel said with a grin, grabbing Spike's hand.

Spike scoffed jokingly. "You and your poncy hand holding."

"Like you don't like it."

Spike shrugged. "What of it if I do?"

Angel looked down at their joined hands, and began stroking the inside of Spike's palm with his thumb.

"So, are we really gonna…"

"Make a go of this?" Spike finished. "We've been to hell and back. Several times for you. Been a lot of years between the two of us."

"No one knows me better, or frustrates me more than you, Spike. Seems fitting that we'd end up together, doesn't it?"

"That, and you seem to eventually need a blond in your life at some point."

"And who would've guessed that blond would be you?" Angel smiled.

"Yeah," Spike chuckled. "Hey, at least we sussed this out after the wedding, yeah? I mean, bride's need 'something new' and all that, but I don't think Buffy would've been able to handle this."

"No, not something new. Not really," Angel said softly, his free hand slowly moving up towards Spike's face, stroking his cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"No?"

"I'd like to think of it as something…old."


End file.
